Diligent people seize time, lazy people waste it, ambitious people cherish it, idle people squander it, loyal people respect it, speculators wait for it, and the wise accumulate it.
Each day you pay a higher price than the day before, as life has shortened by another day; therefore, be more proactive every single day. Today is too precious to be consumed by anxiety and regret. Lift your head and grasp today, for it will never return.
When we look back, what settles is not just memory; those passing moments like wind and years like songs drift away in silent thought. Cherish what you have, for what is missed can never be retrieved. May all lovers find their way to happiness.
Even in the most beautiful things in this world, a hint of regret is often hidden. While being unable to be together despite fate may cause sorrow, it also allows one to see blooming flowers instead of a desolate wasteland when looking back!
The Yangtze River flows east, its waves washing away heroes. Success and failure vanish in a blink; only the green mountains remain, bathed in the setting sun. By the riverbank, the fisherman and woodcutter watch the autumn moon and spring breeze, sharing a jar of wine. All the affairs of past and present are discussed lightly over wine.
We sometimes use various excuses to mask our wounds and vulnerabilities, trying to appear calm and composed. In reality, the people and events we cannot forget remain deep within our hearts; only we know the warmth and coldness.
The autumn wind blows, and the ink falls in sorrow. Passing through time, a glance back reveals the past turned to wind. A scroll of poetry amidst the mist, a page of dust like a dream. A sip of emotion, a hint of sorrow. A page of fleeting love, a page of paleness; a page of fallen flowers, a page of misery; a page of clear dreams, a page of desolation; a page of autumn waters, a page of coldness. Cold, cold, cold. A desolate dream, a dream of desolation. Autumn, whom have you weathered?
Life is a process of replacing one anxiety with another and one desire with another. Nothing can provide us with a permanent guarantee; that is simply impossible.
